Singing in My Sleep
by ShiroKitsune
Summary: Words can only express so much. In the deaf and mute reaches of our souls, far more powerful things are expressed where words fail. Amon x Robin.


Disclaimer: Standard. I own nothing.  
Rated: G  
[One-Shot] [ Words can only express so much. In the deaf and mute reaches of our souls, far more powerful things are expressed where words fail. Amon x Robin. ]  
  
Singing in My Sleep  
by ShiroKitsune  
  
It was a soft pervasive sound. Not quite singing, for the words were indistinct. And yet it was too precise and clear to be humming. Yet, whatever the sound was, it invaded the half-conscious mind of the STN-J's star hunter as he lay on the couch in the deeply dimmed apartment of his partner. Amon followed the melody softly back to a reality he did not wish to face yet.  
  
He inhaled deeply and ran his hands over his abused ribs. None were broken, only bruised. That was a blessing. Perhaps it was a miracle.  
  
The Factory had been collapsing around them.  
  
Each second it took for Amon to reach Robin was a kind of Death to their chances of survival.  
  
Had they even survived? He wondered to himself.  
  
Perhaps they hadn't made it out in time. His smoky eyes slid open and fixed on the source of the pervasive melody.  
  
Robin.  
  
She had shed her burgundy cloak and black dress. She stood in the kitchen in a much looser, flowing, black skirt and bell sleeved white shirt. Her lips moved lightly as she sung. Her movements were soundless and graceful. But for her soft song and the gentle swish of her skirt's hem on the floor, she might not have been there at all.  
  
Perhaps they were dead. Did he truly lead a good enough life for this kind of comfort. Or would Robin, at any moment now, turn into a horrifying demon to torment him for the rest of eternity.  
  
Foolishness.  
  
Amon huffed out a sharp breath and was rewarded with a nose full of dust. He sneezed and winced at the pressure that was applied to his ribs. He sneezed again and held his breath to keep from inhaling anymore dust. When his eyes opened again, they were looking directly into the beautiful bottle- green eyes of his partner. Wordlessly, she handed him a few tissues. He looked down at the scraped delicate hand before him and shook his head. He stood, albeit a bit shakily, then proceeded to the bathroom.  
  
He was, a bit the worse for wear, looking into the mirror. He ran the cool water then grabbed the washcloth beside the shower. It smelled faintly of orange and ginger. He dampened it slightly then proceeded to wash the dust and dried blood from his face. Except for a cut that ran sharply above his left temple, his only injuries were his bruised ribs and a handful of minor scrapes and bruises. He turned off the water and gently lay the cloth beside the sink.  
  
He had been holding her, trying to shield her from the destruction. He had thought for a brief painful moment that he had not made it in time. That this was the end.  
  
He looked at the slight girl at his side. She limped, determined beside him and in those eyes he saw that this would not be the end. The fight was not yet over.  
  
They had, each one supporting the other, made it to the car and fled. They would be safe for the night. Tomorrow, they would have to run away.  
  
But he saw the fight, the unwavering spirit and power in her eyes.  
  
Amon stepped out of the bathroom.  
  
Perhaps it was an instinct, a seventh sense, or something else, but Robin lifted her eyes to meet his and his heart skipped a beat. In those eyes, those beautiful green eyes, he found the future.  
  
Trust.  
I trust you. Her face was still smudged with dirt, her lips were bruised, and the hand holding her cup of tea was bloody at the knuckles. But those eyes that seemed always in his mind, were filled with trust and hope. Almost as one, they walked to the couch and she handed him a cup of orange spiced tea. They sat, in silence, in peace, gaining reassurance from the other's presence.  
  
And with the first rays of dawn filtering in through the shades, he looked at the small woman who occupied so much of his world and saw a spark in those eyes. More eloquent than words could ever hope to express she spoke to him with a look.  
  
In her eyes was love.  
That was the future. Their future. He reached out with one sure hand and tucked a loose piece of golden hair behind her ear. He slid his hand down and cupped her cheek, looking deeply into her eyes. He made his promise to her.  
  
They would always rise from the rubble.  
Together.  
  
WAFF, it happens. Anyone else feeling warm and fuzzy? 


End file.
